Bloodborne - The Depths Of Madness
by TheDepressed1
Summary: An unnamed pilgrim arrives in the ancient city of Yharnam in search of a cure to end a terrible plague that has ravaged his home. However, those who remain in the city are not what they seem. The pilgrim will face the fear in this dark and horrific world where madness, danger, and death lurk around every corner. Short story based on the Bloodborne beta. Enjoy the first chapter!


The world shimmered and I felt a strange sensation in my mind, like it had just been woken from some forsaken nightmare. I shook my head to clear away the dread and opened my eyes.

My surroundings were familiar and awesome. The city of Yharnam towered around me in titanic horror. In the distance the renowned cathedral loomed over everything, the moonlight dripping shadow over the darkness. The air was thick and frigid, and I felt sweat rolling down the back of my neck in spite of the cold autumn weather. My breath licked steam in front of my face, even through my mask. The gates in front of me groaned, as if in defiance of my presence. I stepped forward.

Broken and abandoned carriages littered the path, the stench of dead horses clinging to the air. Some had been bearing coffins when they had met their destruction. The caskets were wrapped bound in thick iron chains, tight and secure. I took my time to look inside the desolate carriages, hoping, praying to find something of use. A few stones, a full bottle of some intoxicating spirit, some withered and defiled corpses. In my need I tore the clothing from the crumpled dead inside, ripped it into rags for tourniquets, or markers, or something. The back of my mind congratulated myself for my thieving efforts. It seemed to know something that I did not.

I tore a ragged piece of wood from one of the carriages and took a tiny glass vial from my belt. I smashed it against the wood and the foul-smelling liquid inside burst into a flame, catching to the wood and throwing hideous shadows onto the carnage around me. Something moved and I wheeled my torch around to see what had caught my eye.

His limbs were long and gangly, carrying a torch like mine in one hand. His wide-brimmed hat hiding his face but for a grimly manic smile. The coat that covered his back was shredded into leather strips and hung from his gaunt figure loosely. My eyes focused on the axe that glinted dully from my torchlight. It was blunt, shoddily made, the blade stained with what may have been years of old blood. His stride towards me was purposeful. Violent. I raised my blunderbuss towards him in defense.

_"Cease, friend. Mine business is not with thee, thou need not offer your threat to me."_ If my words were heard he did not heed them, and raised his weapon ready to strike. I fired my own weapon on instinct. The buckshot caught his weapon hand, turning it into nothing more than pieces of gore, and the axe dropped to the floor with a metallic clang. In one movement, I dropped my blunderbuss and drew my own blade from my hip, using the momentum to bring it full force underneath my aggressor's shoulder. It cleaved off his arm completely, shattering bone and spraying blood in a glorious arc towards me. The warmth of it was morbidly pleasing as it spattered my face. My attacker dropped his torch and groped helplessly at the stump where his arm once belonged. He turned to me and screamed an unholy sound. I could not understand the curses he threw toward me. I uttered my own prayer to Umbasa and I took my blade to the creature's neck. His head joined his arm on the cobbled ground, its mouth still holding that disturbing grin even in death.

My breathing was steady as I slowly collected my weapon from the ground. My mind was attempting to justify the level of self-defense I had enforced upon the now-violated creature. His head was rolling slowly down towards the gateway, bouncing as it hit larger cobbles. The thud of dead flesh was the only sound that joined my breathing in this cold, fearsome air. I took the few seconds of peace to check what supplies I had within my possession. The rags I have scavenged. The bottle of alcohol. Three more vials of the flammable liquid. A handful of metal shards for my weapon. Some well worn sticks of chalk. Two small, brightly polished bells. A small bag full of smooth rounded pebbles. The bells looked unused, and permeated a warmth through my gloved hand. I looped what I could through my belt and placed the rest into a pocket inside my coat.

Nothing else of my surroundings was of any further use. I stepped through the dented and rusted gateway, closer to darkness.


End file.
